


In the Mind Palace, On the Train

by johnlockedinthetardis



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Mind Palace, The Empty Hearse, hinted Johnlock - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-06
Updated: 2014-01-06
Packaged: 2018-01-07 16:44:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1122168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/johnlockedinthetardis/pseuds/johnlockedinthetardis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Memories of John Watson are all that have gotten Sherlock through the past two years. Now, he's faced with disarming a bomb, and it's a matter of life or death. Where does he go? To John, obviously. His John.</p><p>Prompted by this post: http://justonelasttrick.tumblr.com/post/72394909003/cumberbliss-watsonisgay-cumberbatchs-woah</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Mind Palace, On the Train

“Mind palace! Use your mind palace!”  
“How will that help?”  
“You’ve salted away every fact under the sun!”  
“And now you think I’ve just got ‘how to diffuse a bomb’ tucked away in there somewhere?”  
“Yes!”

Sherlock huffed. There was no point in this, but if they had less than two minutes left, his only options were to appease John or to snog the living hell out of him. For some reason, the latter option did not seem overly constructive. He hunched over, fingers to his temples.

“Breathe!” John’s voice rang in his ears, but it wasn’t the John on the train. It was the John in his palace. His John. The one who’d gotten him through two years of pain and loneliness. Every time it hurt, he’d cleared his mind. Wiped it down with bleach. Everything in his head died but John. Those times were the most peaceful.  
If this John could get him through whips and concrete and forest floors, he could certainly talk Sherlock through saving their lives.  
“Breathe, Sherlock, just breathe.” This John smiled. Still looked at him like he was the sun. “You know everything, don’t you? You’re brilliant. My Sherlock. Absolutely brilliant.”  
“You think so?” Sherlock asked.  
“Yes. Of course. Extraordinary. You’re absolutely extraordinary. It’s like you’ve got this ability to switch everything off. Close your mind down except for me.”

Sherlock’s eyes flew open. “Oh!” he cried.  
Switch everything off. Of course John knew. If Sherlock Holmes had an off-switch, everything must. He crouched over the bomb and found the switch immediately, flicking it.  
When he looked up, a very different John stood before him. Worry lines, graying hair, his enthusiasm worn away by some war he’d been fighting in his mind. Sherlock sighed.  
If they had the rest of their lives left, his only options were to tell John they were safe or to play this to his advantage.  
He turned away, blinking as he forced himself to cry.  
Maybe, just maybe, he could have his John back.


End file.
